First Christmas
by anjumstar
Summary: One-shot. Future Fic. It's Christmas 2015 and Dan is inspired to take on the role of cameraman, eager to record the story of everyone's first Christmas for...some reason. Dan/Serena; Chuck/Blair.


**First Christmas**

 **Pairing:** Chair, Chuck/Blair; Derena; Dan/Serena.

 **Setting:** Christmas 2015.

 **Rating:** K+ for adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Gossip Girl_ television or book series. This story is merely for entertainment purposes.

* * *

"Your first Christmas. Go."

Dan shoved Serena down into the couch cushions, possibly never to leave, as the cushions were very plush and her heels were very tall. He sat down across from her on the coffee table and brought up a digital camera. Unable to figure out exactly how the zoom worked, he settled for simply putting the camera right in front of her face.

Serena blushed and hid her face in her huge, tacky Christmas sweater, before finally realizing that the best technique was to simply put a hand up to the camera lens. "Dan, stop it!"

"Stop what?" He laughed as he figured out the zoom toggle and zoomed the camera in towards her face, backing away on the table to avoid her wildly swatting hands.

"Stop filming me! What are you doing?"

Dan rolled his eyes and put the camera down. "I want to record the story of your first Christmas."

"I was a baby," Serena deadpanned. "I don't remember my first Christmas. And, uh, why are you using a digital camera instead of your phone?"

"Well, I need it to be of good quality," he explained.

Serena sat back, amused now that she was taking charge of the situation. "I see. And why is that?"

Dan looked a bit guilty. About on the level of stealing exactly two cookies from the plate that they had made up that day. And he only knew that look because Serena had had it on her face about twenty minutes prior.

"You'll find out. And I mean the first Christmas you can remember," he amended, bringing the camera back up. "Come on, tell me the story of the first Christmas that you remember." He pouted his hopefully kissable lips, like Serena so often did. "Please?"

"Nuh-uh." Serena shook her head. "I don't like secretive Dan. That's when trouble happens. You're going to tell me why."

She did have him there. So…maybe he could spin this.

"I'm a writer. I record stories. I want to record everyone's stories of their first Christmas in honor of Henry's first Christmas."

Dan smiled. Good job spinning.

Serena eyed him suspiciously. "And…?"

Urgh. Almost. He shrugged nonchalantly. "And maybe it'll help me write a festive short story for The Spectator." All true. Serena nodded with this smug look that only the Grinch himself could beat. "And of course I want to record yours first because you're my greatest muse and I love you."

Serena smiled. "Brownie points acknowledged."

"Good." Camera up. "Now tell me about the first Christmas you remember."

Serena sighed. "Fine you win. I was five, Eric was three. It was the last Christmas with my parents together…"

* * *

 _"Serena put your dress down!"_

 _I was having a hissy fit. Everyone was giving Eric so much attention because…well, I guess he was more agreeable then I was. And he was cuter. He was tiny and blond with big eyes and laughed at every little thing. Whereas I was going through this phase where I wouldn't brush my hair…Anyway, I thought a good way to pull the attention back to me was to pull my dress over my head._

 _"I don't wanna!"_

 _It wasn't going so well._

 _"Serena," my mother came over to me and grabbed the hem of my dress out of my sticky hands and pulled it down, "you need to keep your skirt down. Always. Understand?"_

 _Yeah…that was a lesson soon forgotten in about ten years._

 _I huffed. "Fine."_

 _Oh, but it wasn't fine. It wasn't fine at all. My dad hadn't been spending hardly any time at home, much less around me, and Eric still needed so much babying and this was Christmas and I wanted presents and dessert._

 _And since Santa was in charge of the presents, I would be in charge of the dessert._

 _So I kept my dress down—you're welcome, Mom—and put on my black coat, that had fur at the collar._

 _My best spy wear._

 _…I guess._

 _So I snuck into the kitchen, using everyone's attention on Eric to my advantage. There was a tiered platter full of different cookies—none baked by Lily, thankfully—on the counter. You have no idea the majesty of these cookies. They were decorated with festive icing and little crystals of sprinkles and there was a whole tier just for chocolate ones. They were all mouthwatering to even look at. They were my goal. And nothing would get in my way._

 _But the counter was too high up, so I had to get creative. The smart idea probably would have been getting a chair from the living room, but I couldn't risk getting seen, otherwise my whole mission would be for naught. So I went…a different route._

 _I took every pot I could find and made, stairs, I suppose. Kind of. They worked though! They were a little louder than my plan required, but since I was wearing my spy coat, no one came in and found me teetering up them and onto the counter._

 _Getting down was the tricky part. My balance was compromised because of the cookies, so I kinda had to jump most of the way down. But only a few cookies were spilt to the floor in the process._

 _And you better believe that I ate those too. They were the chocolate ones._

* * *

"Long story short, I managed to steal all the cookies and stow them away in my closet. But not without eating, I dunno, a dozen or so of them. I had the worst stomach ache of my life, but at least that got Lily to pay a little more attention to me."

Dan frowned. "That's not really a festive story for little Henry, Serena."

Serena matched him, putting her hands on her hips. "I thought this was for you. For writing inspiration."

"Yeah, that too," he said with a shrug.

Amused, Serena rolled her eyes and threw a red scarf around her neck before opening the door. "Poor Henry will make it through. Speaking of which, we need to get to the Bass's."

"No coat?" Dan asked as he reached for a few bags of presents.

"Psh, no. It's hot as Christmas balls out there, nearly 70 degrees." She chucked a hat at him playfully. "Sorry, no snow for you this year."

"Chest _nuts_ roasting on an open fire, eh?"

"Yup."

* * *

"Merry Christmas!" Serena burst out as the elevator opened to the Bass penthouse.

"Shh!" Blair hushed as she rushed into the room, a blanket and pacifier in hand. "Chuck's just now finally putting Henry down to sleep, so everyone needs to be quiet."

Blair looked…less than festive. Frazzled was a better word. Her hair was flat on her head and her clothes were obviously not the ones that she would be wearing for the party. And not a lick of makeup was on her face. Clearly, this was mommy Blair, not hostess Blair.

"Then this will be a great party," Dan muttered sarcastically, though with good humor. "Here you go."

"Ah, cookies," Blair noted, with a Christmas card-esque smile. She shifted the baby items into the crook of her arm and took the gift bags and the cookies. "The poor man's Christmas gift. Which, of course, I mean only as a cliché and not as an insult."

Always the diffuser, Serena squeaked, "And a happy new year," with forced cheer.

"I'm just kidding, Serena," Blair said, walking a strange balance between being genuine and being Blair. "Dan's just an easy target."

"Guilty as charged," Dan agreed. Now that his hands were free, he whipped out his camera and pointed it towards Blair. "So, Blair, tell me the story of the first Christmas that you remember."

Blair would have smacked the camera to the floor if she could have. "Humphrey, I'm not wearing any makeup and I've been on my feet all day; you had better put that camera down before you choke on these cookies."

"Uh, yeah…" Serena said, taking the cookies off of Blair's pile. "I'll just put these in the kitchen."

As much as Dan appreciated the protection on Serena's part, he couldn't help but notice the distinct sound of plastic wrap being peeled off of the paper. The cookies seemed to be even less safe than he was.

But at least he could protect himself. "Rough day?" Dan asked, obliging Blair and putting the camera down.

Blair shook her head. "Just things not going exactly according to plan, so we're running a little behind for the party."

To be fair, 'a little' really was the operative word. Blair—and possibly Chuck—had turned their penthouse into a veritable winter wonderland. Everything was either red and green or gold and silver, the pinnacle of it all being the enormous tree they had somehow stuffed into their living room. Blair appeared to have put herself last in the process.

Dan smiled; things certainly had changed. "Well, is there anything that we can do to help while you're becoming the Blair from the fashion magazines?"

"I'll just go and become the Blair of everyone's dreams and," she sighed, "you can come and I'll tell you the story, okay?"

Dan smiled. "Sounds great!"

"We just have to be quick," Blair said as they walked to hers and Chuck's room, dropping off the presents at the base of the tree on the way. "I don't trust Serena there in the kitchen with the cookies."

"Oh," Dan grimaced. "Neither do I."

They walked into the room and Blair sat primly on at her vanity, spreading some sort of cream on her eyes before picking up an eyeshadow palette. "So what do you want to know?"

Dan shifted on the bed, picking up his camera and getting a good viewpoint of Blair's profile in the mirror as she lifted a brush to her lid. "The story of the first Christmas you remember."

"Well, I was four and," Blair smiled fondly, "Eleanor was reading to me our Waldorf, personalized version of _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_ …

* * *

 _"Happy Christmas to Blair, and to Blair a goodnight!"_

 _Eleanor kissed my forehead and I snuggled underneath the covers and went to sleep on Christmas Eve with dreams of sugar plums and candy canes running through my mind. I was so excited that I woke up many, many times that night, each time forcing myself to go back to sleep, or else I knew that Santa wouldn't come._

 _See, Santa really is the ultimate judge on if you're a good person or not. And I've always been a good girl. So I was going to be perfectly behaved. Especially on the night on which our behavior matters the most._

 _Well…almost perfectly behaved._

 _I had never seen Santa for real before! Eleanor never allowed us to see the store Santas because…well, for not very festive reasons. So this was my chance. My one chance. I would have been a fool not to take it. Surely Santa would understand._

 _Quiet as a mouse, I crept downstairs at just about midnight, and there he was! Santa Claus! He was in the living room, putting all of my many, many presents under the tree, proving how good I had been that year. Not that I hadn't already known that. And he was arranging them perfectly. Just the way that I would have._

 _Santa knows how to get things done._

 _Along with all of the presents, there were two giant candy canes leaning against the tree. One for me and one for my dad. Hence our tradition. I guess Eleanor didn't want one. Too much sugar. Bad for the skin._

 _Content that Christmas was going to be perfect—and nothing less—I went back to sleep._

 _For a bit._

 _I just needed another view of Santa! So I used all of my stealth and crept to the roof._

 _Now the roof was very dangerous, and I knew that I wasn't supposed to go up there by myself. But this was about Christmas! And would you believe it: Santa was there. Right there on the roof, clearly off to the next house._

 _"Santa!" I cried out before I could stop myself._

 _Santa turned around, revealing his snowy-white beard and a jolly smile. Obviously he was pleased to see me. I mean, who wouldn't have been?_

 _And we talked. I got to talk with and hug Santa himself. Jealous, Humphrey? Then it was time for Santa to go and I let him. I wasn't going to be selfish and keep him from the other kids he was visiting. So off he went, Santa's sleigh glimmered as it shot up into the night towards the North Star and I waved him off._

* * *

"And I got all of the presents that I wanted and Daddy had the night off work and it was perfect," Blair smiled proudly. "More than that, I was the only person who got to talk to Santa himself, and not a fake. Everyone at preschool was so jealous."

Dan nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "Sounds…accurate."

Blair glared at him. "Well, that's how I remember it. So that's how it is."

"Sure," Dan appeased. "Looks like you're about done, and I have everything that I need now, so do you need me to do anything for you?"

Blair was applying her red lipstick, the finishing touch, with a thin lip brush using laser precision. "Just check on Chuck and see if he's alive and…unstained for the party."

Maybe Chuck would give him some material to work with. It likely wouldn't be as colorful as a Blair story, but at least it would probably be true. Probably.

"Alright."

Dan made his way into the nursery, pleased to see that he got more than he had bargained for.

There was Chuck, leaning over the crib and drawing little circles with his finger on the blanket, smiling dopily all the while. Daddy Chuck was even better than Mommy Blair. Dan smirked, lifting his camera and getting a good shot of the gooey new dad.

"Here lies the remains of one Charles Bass, who is no longer recognizable to anyone who knew him seven years ago."

Chuck bristled, immediately standing up and smoothing his lapel and putting a finger to his lips. "What are you going on about, Humphrey?" he whispered.

Dan gave him a once over. "Oh good, no stains. Blair will be happy."

Chuck looked offended. "I'm a Bass. If nothing else, I know how to dress myself."

"And how to be a sappy dad. Chuck Bass. Who'd have thought?" Dan zoomed in on the sleeping baby and tried his best not to melt. Because then he wouldn't be able to make fun of Chuck without being a hypocrite.

"What on earth are you doing to my son?" Chuck asked, pushing the camera out of the crib.

"Just taking some establishing shots," Dan replied nonchalantly. Since this was for Henry's first Christmas, there had to be some shots of the kid. He was the glue of it all.

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Since when are you a filmmaker? Didn't Serena already dump one of those?"

"Not a filmmaker, despite the current hat I'm wearing. Just a recorder of stories. Usually my vessel is paper, but today," he raised the camera, "I'm using this."

"And the story you're recording is _How Chuck Bass Killed Daniel Humphrey After He Awoke His Finally Sleeping Son_?" Chuck illustrated with a menacing step forwards.

Dan laughed, though he still took a defensive step backwards. "Something to that effect, but more along the lines of everyone's first Christmas that they remember."

"Well, considering mine was only about four years ago, I don't think you'll get much of a story," Chuck deadpanned, grabbing his coat and bowtie and leading Dan out of the nursery.

"Oh, come on. There must be some that you remember before the great drunken festivals of your youth." He took Chuck's coat that was abruptly shoved at him. "Perhaps between ages five and—I'm gonna be optimistic here—twelve? If Serena had one then you have no excuse."

Chuck tied his red and green bowtie deftly and gave a little brush to his hair that seemed to perfectly coif it in an instant. Dan self-consciously touched his own unruly curls and tried his best to brush them back.

"Fine. There's exactly one Christmas—save those of late—that stands out." Chuck took his coat and put it on, now perfectly polished. "I was three—"

"Wait, three?" Dan asked incredulously. "You remember a Christmas when you were three?"

Chuck glared. "As I was saying, I was three. All was usual; Bart was at work."

* * *

 _"Charles, come in, come in!"_

 _I had been sent to the Waldorf Penthouse because my father, in his grand generosity, and given my current nanny off work for Christmas day._

 _"Thank you, Eleanor."_

 _Amazing how young we were socialized. I took off my coat and gave it to Dorota, as well as my snowy shoes. I didn't reach my rebellious years until a couple years later._

 _"I'll take you to Blair and the two of you can entertain each other until dinner._

 _Blair and I had known each other for less than a year at that point, I think. We went to the same preschool. But I'm not sure if I would have called us friends at that point._

 _Blair was in a red dress, dressed up like a little doll for the dinner. She was coloring in a book and second one was set out, presumably for me._

 _"Hi, Blair."_

 _I think I waved, or something stupid like that. Eleanor left the two of us alone since Dorota had hurried back to kitchen or something. I knelt down to join her on the carpet, but she got up and pulled me right back up with her._

 _"Come on, we're going on a trip!" she said. She dragged me back to the elevator, giving me my shoes and hopping to reach my coat as well as her own in the process._

 _Well, I guess I was a little rebellious. As was she, apparently._

 _Surprised?_

 _Blair's always been strong-willed with a mind of her own. Even at that age. I doubt she would have meant it as rebellion, though. If someone had told her that she was rebellious she probably would have broken down crying._

 _But this night was all excitement. We ran downstairs and outside the lobby until our feet finally touched the fresh fallen snow. It was magic for a couple of three-year-olds._

 _"My daddy just taught me to do this today."_

 _She pulled me down into the snow and we began making snow angels right there on the disgusting sidewalks of Manhattan. But we didn't care about that—we didn't even think about it. All we could fathom was the snow and who was making the best snow angels._

 _When she declared hers done, she stood up and I followed. She gave a toothy smile and declared hers as the best. I wanted nothing more than to disagree, because I thought that mine was pretty great, especially for my first one. But I agreed with her._

 _Christmas spirit. That's all. I was the guest and I had to keep the cheer._

 _She said, "I know," and moved further onto the sidewalk to make another angel and I followed suit._

* * *

"We got away with it for only a little longer before Dorota ran down, all worried and out of breath and brought us back upstairs."

"Really?" Dan asked, placing some champagne flutes on a tray. "You remember all that?"

Chuck nodded, his eyes warm as he added some cookies to the plate that Dan and Serena had brought. Dan frowned. It was obvious some were missing. He'd have to have a talk with Serena later.

"What can I say? It was a rare good moment from childhood. Those stuck better than anything else."

Dan smiled. "Too bad for Henry, then."

Chuck turned to him, his eyes hard now. "What do you mean?"

"He'll have too many good moments to remember them all."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Okay, now you can't give me any more grief for having softened."

Damn.

"Fine."

"Anyway," Chuck continued, "I don't think that Blair remembers," Chuck smiled, his eyes warming again in fondness, "but I think that that was probably the day that we really became friends."

Dan turned off the camera, putting it in his pocket and picking up the champagne to bring out. "I think that's all I need." He patted Chuck on the back. "Merry Christmas, man."

"Merry Christmas, Humphrey."

By then Nate had joined the party and they had their full crew. The day's celebration—besides Christmas—was that this was everyone's first Christmas without their families. They had spent Christmas eve with them, and Christmas morning, but, in lieu of baby Henry's entrance into the world, it was time for some new traditions.

"Oh, thank God."

Nate reached for a champagne flute before Dan had even had a chance to set it on the table.

"Whoa, thirsty, Nate?" Serena asked as they all watched him gulp it down.

He gave a lopsided grin, setting the now empty glass back on the tray. "Your families have all had breakthroughs in recent years. Mine is still very much the same."

"Aw, come on," Chuck said, having followed Dan out. "The Captain's softened up."

Nate put a finger up. "Exactly. The one difference. And that just makes everyone else worse. That's why I'm so grateful to be here with my sane family."

Serena grinned. "Aw, calling us all sane. That's so generous." She smirked mischievously. "Especially to Chuck and Blair."

Blair, for her part, looked wounded. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Serena shrugged. "New parents are never supposed to be sane."

Avoiding the oncoming spat, Dan walked over to Nate. "Dude, let's go to the other room for a second, okay?"

Never one to argue, Nate followed him, but not without grabbing a second champagne flute on the way. "What's up?"

"Okay, before you get started on that," Dan lowered the champagne from to Nate's side with one hand and used his other to get his camera out of his pocket, "tell me the story of your first Christmas."

"Uh," Nate looked confused, but that was pretty normal, "alright. I was a baby and I slept, cried, ate, and probably shit my—"

"First Christmas you _remember_ ," Dan cut him off, smacking his forehead repeatedly.

"Oh!" Nate brightened. "Yeah. Five years old, went to Hawaii and got to swim. Pretty great."

"Uh, good story, Nate," Dan laughed. "Care to elaborate?"

"Nope." Nate gave his charming little Nate-grin that made all the ladies swoon for him. "The first one isn't always the important one and that's all I remember anyway."

Nate returned to the party and Dan dropped his arm, thinking.

The first one isn't always the important one…

Who'd have thought the pearl of wisdom would come from Nate Archibald?

* * *

"B!" Serena squealed. "Thank you so much!"

Wrapping paper was strewn higgledy-piggledy, as were ribbons, sequins, as well as tinsel and ornaments knocked from the tree by a relatively drunk Nate. But spirits were high and merry as Serena leaned over to give Blair the biggest hug that she could while the recently awakened baby was tight in Blair's arms.

"Okay, my turn," Dan said, taking a very small package from under the tree, the last one of the night. "It's to Chuck and Blair."

Blair took it in one hand, shaking it a little. "You know I'm wary of small presents, Humphrey. Unless they're money, and I know that that this isn't, because it's coming from you."

"Just open it, Blair," Chuck said, taking Henry from her.

"Fine, fine."

Undoing the wrapping paper and folding the tape with careful precision, Blair found a small CD in her hands. She flipped it back and forth. "CDs are a little passé, don't you think?"

Dan, pointedly ignoring her, reached for his laptop and took the disc out of her hands before popping it in. "It's a DVD."

"You already spent so much time on your laptop tonight, Dan," Serena whined, leaning on his back. "You were on it for half of dinner. So you better have a good reason for this."

"I do, don't worry," Dan said, not taking his eyes off the laptop. He opened the DVD file and Dan's face popped onto the screen.

 _"Hi, Henry," he started._

Dan pulled back so everyone could see. "It's really more to Henry than you guys, but since it'll be a long time before he can appreciate it, you are the regents of sorts over this DVD," he explained.

 _"This is your first Christmas and so I wanted for some of the people who love you to tell you the stories of their first Christmases. Well…the first Christmases that they remember, at least."_

The view then went to shots of that very night, the party and everyone enjoying themselves. Then, in a voiceover: _"We didn't all have the happiest childhoods, or the best Christmases, but if you take a look at your first one right here, you can see how happy your first one is. You haven't cried or anything."_

A charming view of a sleeping Henry popped onto the screen, earning coos from the girls.

 _"Now, I don't remember my first Christmas, because all of mine until I was sixteen were all the same. Waking the parents up early to find presents under the tree. Not too many because, as I'm sure your parents have told you, I grew up relatively poor."_

Chuck stifled a laugh as Blair rolled her eyes. "We're not that terrible, you know!" she exclaimed. But Serena was staring her down and she wasn't nearly as much of a natural liar as she had been in her youth. "But you're probably right."

 _"My dad would make waffles and we would spend the rest of the day with our presents. Pretty typical. So rather than tell you the story of the first Christmas that I remember, I'll tell you the story of my most important Christmas. My first different Christmas: my sixteenth. It had the highest highs,"_

The screen went to Serena seated at their couch and reaching out to block the camera.

"Dan, you had better not be telling our son the story of how you lost your virginity," Blair growled.

 _"and the lowest lows. Henry, your life will have unbelievable highs, thanks to your parents, and unbelievable lows, thanks to this world that we all live in now. But Christmas is a time to remember the highs and, I guess thank the lows for making the highs even better. And then forget about them for the day."_

The onscreen Dan smirked.

 _"So, to help out with that, here are some stories of the shenanigans of our youths."_

Everyone laughed as the screen went through Serena's story, Blair's, Nate's addendum, and ending with Chuck's, which left everyone teary.

Blair, turned to him. "Chuck that's so sweet. I can't believe you never told me that story."

Chuck smiled. "I hadn't thought about it in a long time."

"And I can't believe that Bart sent you to her house instead of mine," Nate interjected.

"Yeah…" Chuck winced. "Bart always kind of hated The Captain."

Nate glared at Chuck for a moment before nodding. "Understandable."

Dan turned to Serena. "Am I forgiven for being antisocial during dinner?"

Serena shrugged. "I think that's up to Blair."

"Blair?"

Blair sighed, looking down at the carpet and then up at Dan. "Dan, this was unbelievable. Best Christmas present ever. Of this price value at least," she amended with a small smile. "Henry will love it someday."

"Group hug, everyone!" Serena announced. She dragged everyone in and took a picture of all of them. "Cover art for the DVD," she claimed.

"First perfect Christmas ever," Nate said.

"Too bad little Henry, here, won't remember it," Blair pouted, taking the baby back from Chuck.

"Well, that's what the DVD is for," Serena said.

"Thank God for our current generation's obsession with recording everything," Dan said.

"Here, here!" Chuck said, reaching for his champagne.

"Merry Christmas to the Non-Judging Breakfast Club," Blair said. "Even Dan."

"Wismas."

Everyone turned to Henry, who had a pleased grin on his face and was clapping his hands together.

Blair paused. "Did he just say 'Christmas?'"

Serena nodded slowly. "I think he did."

"That's his first word," Chuck exclaimed.

Quickly, Blair, eyes narrowed, was in Dan's face. "Did you record that?"

Backing away, Dan shook his head. "No…You know that I didn't have my camera in my hand."

Blair scoffed. "Good for nothing."

Henry, for his part, was still laughing and clapping. "Wismas! Wismas! Wismas!"

And it was a merry _Wismas_ to all.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, this is...rough. To be flattering. Not well-written at all. But I'm pretty uninspired at the moment and I just wanted to get something out there...even though this is late anyway. Oops. Sorry about that. Hopefully I'll go back and edit this one day and make it a little better. I didn't expect this to be Dan-focused or more Derena than Chair. But that's what happened, so whatever. Sorry Nate's so poorly represented. I pulled a Humphrey there, didn't I?


End file.
